


The Fettered's Flight

by GettingMetaphysical



Series: All by Myself: A Doctorcest Storyline [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, Doctorcest, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Implied Romance, M/M, Self-cest, doctorbation - Freeform, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:18:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: None - Warning
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingMetaphysical/pseuds/GettingMetaphysical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Third Doctor had driven Bessie out on the countryside, when suddenly, something familiar and someone not-so familiar descends from the skies to steal him away</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fettered's Flight

**Author's Note:**

> * * *

  
It came from outer space. As many things do.

The Doctor had taken Bessie out for a late-night trip along the country road, rather than walking. He liked feeling the winds and imagining the vast landscapes and forests as different alien terrains. These terrains, more varied than Earth’s, yet blurry and inconsistent in his head, streamed through his mind with the speed of the road under the wheels of the car. All in all, it was a normal Tuesday eve in May. The sun was in the midst of setting over the fields, leaving behind dry, cool shadows.

The Time Lord stopped in the center of a narrow road, wheat fields on either side. The trees and buildings were sparse around here, and could easily be ignored by the wandering mind. He swung his long, black-clad limbs out – the gravel road crunched under his shoes as he made to lean against the vehicle. And that should’ve been it. There should’ve been silence and an easy breeze.

But not many things like to be quiet. And the thing that emerged from the clear skies made the winds act like great waves as it descended, whipping around his clothing and the hood of the car. The Doctor’s eyes teared, squinting at the bright light and the booming, clattering, _screeching_ noises of a great, big…

Box.

A deep blue 1960’s police box.

The Doctor stood frozen, braced on Bessie. Staring.

The doors creaked, then burst open, flooding the Doctor and Bessie in white light in the blue and orange surroundings. A six foot humanoid in a floppy hat, too many layers of mismatched clothes under a tan coat and a preposterously long scarf stepped out of their silhouette in the doorway.

The lights dimmed. Their face grinned.

”What in blazes?” the Doctor said.

”Don’t be afraid, Doctor. I come in peace,” the stranger said. In Gallifreyan.

The tall figure chuckled, in a distinct ’I’ve always wanted to say that’-way. Whatever had been mysterious or sombre about their deep voice had been traded for bitten-back glee: ”I only mean to steal you away for a bit. Did you like the big entrance? I sure did.”

”Steal me? For what purpose? And more importantly – who are you?”

”Who am I? Why, I’m a Time Lord, just like you. A most excellent specimen of Gallifreyan personhood, I’d say.”

The Doctor… really couldn’t fathom it, for a moment. Another Time Lord? In England, and on Earth, of all places? In the 1970’s, of all times? Granted, in the back of his mind he already knew, from the appearance of what was obviously a TARDIS. But it was strange, and delightful, and frightening, to actually hear the stranger admit it.

Nevertheless, he kept his tone sharp and his head high.

”Why does your TARDIS look like mine?”

”It doesn’t look _entirely_ like yours.” The toothy grin turned into an oddly sympathetic pout. ”The font on the door sign is larger, the lamp on top has a different shape, and the interior…” He - presumably - flashed his teeth again. ”I’ve got a whole new batch of rooms installed.”

”New batch? Look, man, the way you’re speaking is making it sound as if you’ve copied my TARDIS and made it your own. Or, that it’s the same one, only…”

The Doctor stared. The stranger peered at him from under the brim of his hat.

”…older,” the Doctor breathed.

”Mm, bit slow on the uptake, aren’t you?”

”You’re me.”

”Right on the nose.”

”Regenerated!”

”Yes, aren’t you clearing things up–”

”Me, with myself – again!”

”Sorry to interrupt, but please.” The other Time Lord – the other him – took off his hat and went over to himself in one long step. Taking a comically deep bow and plopping the hat back onto his bouncy dark curls, he said: ”Allow me to introduce myself. The latest model; your direct successor.”

”The Fourth… Doctor.”

”As you are the Third. Or should I say, Three?” He and his giant plates for eyes came closer; the Doctor backed up against Bessie’s side. ”It’s much easier to keep track of me that way, don’t I agree? Who’s the Doctor, doctor who? If I’m the Doctor and you’re the Doctor, then who’s flying the TARDIS? Both? Neither?”

”Well at least one,” the Doctor sputtered to his future face.

”Aha, but none of us are One,” the Fourth Doctor threw his arms out, thankfully stepping back to get some space between them. ”And it’d be plum plain rude to refer to either of us as One when none of us are One, but when both of us are one of me.” He pointed each index finger at their faces. ”You see?”

The Doctor gripped the edge of Bessie’s doors.

”I think so. Four, then. Old chap?” he tried.

”Lovely. Now, Three, my man – shall we take our Old Girl for a spin?”

”What?”

”Like I said,” the Fourth Doctor strode back into his TARDIS, scarf trailing behind him, arm swooping in invitation, ”I’ve come to steal you away.”

The Third Doctor didn’t answer. He feared his voice would crack, from the way his hands had begun to tremble. The inside of the ship glowed, inviting in midst of the chilly sunset.

Only seven steps were needed.

When the sole of his shoe clopped against the floor, he felt it. He felt her, the ship’s engines, hum louder. He feels her confusion, curiosity, and nervous glee at having such a lovely little paradox inside her. Two Doctors, numbers Three and Four, who will shut the doors while the younger one marveled.

Perhaps the Doctor was projecting his own feelings onto her.

He stood still. She was breathtaking, unmistakably in working, able condition. As seemed his successor, who was already at her control boards, pressing buttons and turning knobs. His long hands, the Doctor’s next pair of hands, moved in confidence. In awareness.

”I’ll be free.”

The other him, all teeth and curls, looked up from the board.

”Yes, eventually. Aren’t we grand?”

He didn’t know what he meant; the future ship and her pilot, or the two of him. He went over to lean on the controls, to feel her sparking with space, trilling with time beneath his palms.

All of them, he decided.

”You said that ’we’ would fly her?”

”Absolutely.”

”I don’t know how.”

”Evidently.”

”You’re going to show me?”

”Naturally.”

”Where will we go?”

The Fourth him, maybe just Four, bopped his arm. ”You mean _when_ will we go.”

”As long as we go through the Vortex, anywhen is fine,” the Doctor, or just Three, said.

(Three, that worked for him. Three wasn’t in exile in quite the same way as the Doctor. Three was a temporal state, like a social role to step into while next to another self.)

”My dear Doctor, there’s no other road. Pull that lever over there!”

”This one?”

”Yes, but flick those switches first, they’re important.”

_Click, click, click. Krnk._ ”Why?”

”They make the temporal dimensional shifting noises _just right_!”

_Vworp, vworp!_

Three held on to the lever as his other hand covered his mouth. His vision was blurring with tears, his knees were shaking but somehow kept steady.

_Vworp, vworp!_

And when the other Doctor poked his head out from behind the moving center pillar, he found his current face reflecting his childlike grin.

~*~*~*~

What was time, anyway, to beings like himself? Why live all boring and linear, when you could soar through the same sky in anachronistic anarchy? When the Vortex could rush through you and send your blood racing through your hearts, when the surface of your spaceship throbbed with life and the controls were in love with your fingers.

Several times, the Third Doctor was laughing or shouting, high on the feelings that were new and exciting when they should have been familiar.

Many of those times, Four was there to guide his hand, chattering on and on about all things under the suns and supernovas. A few of them, he was simply there for Three to have something to hang on to.

~*~*~*~

Near the end of it, the Doctor had his arm around the shoulders of the older man, who managed to land them (albeit wobbly) on a planetary surface.

”Here we are,” he said. ”Same road, in front of dear old Bessie, about twenty-two point oh-nine-six seconds later.”

”Great,” Three sighed.

They stood for a moment, silent.

”Doctor? We need to separate.”

”Quite.” The younger man dropped his arm, unable to stop smiling at the now motionless pillar.

He heard the TARDIS doors open, steps, and the deep voice right beside his ear.

”Come on now, off you go.”

”Oh?”

”Off I go, can’t keep myself company forever,” his successor beamed.

Three turned. He glimpsed the softly lit, cold landscape, a gleam from his yellow car.

”Is it already over?”

”Unfortunately, it is for you.”

The air went out of the past Doctor, even as his back remained straight.

”Oh.”

It only took seven slow steps.

The gravel of the dirt road rustled under his soles. The other man remained in the door frame as they once again faced each other.

The Doctor mustered a smile.

”This was… an incredible opportunity.”

”I concur, as you know.” The older Time Lord winked.

As if by chance, his left hand dived into a coat pocket, rummaged, and pulled out a white and silver wand the length of his ring finger.

”This is a portable, pre-set memory erasing and managing device,” he said, giving it a little shake. ”It is different from the wipe gun, in that it is a sort of mini-bomb that cannot be manipulated further until past its goal. As long as you keep it within a five mile radius and the same time as its target – yourself – it will detonate, locking a certain length of experience away from your consciousness.”

 

 

Three took the wand from his extended fingers.

”…Precisely one week from when you first touch it,” Four finished.

Three gaped a little, awestruck by the gadget’s design and function. He almost recognized it, too.

”Meaning I won’t remember this happening, at all?”

”You will, but not the details. Um, how should I say…” The older man bit his lip, scratched his sideburns. ”The feeling of it will be there. You’ll still have it after all, but it won’t be available for recollection until you’ve been me for a little while. Think of it as a story one read as a child; even if the thought of it still makes you cry, you couldn’t for the life of you tell anyone what the plot was.”

”That makes sense,” Three said, studying the numbers on the side of the wand.

Four folded his arms with pride, slouching against the doorframe.

Three looked up.

“It’s very kind of me to let me cherish it for a while.”

“Yes, well, hm.” Four whisked his hand around, his expressions slacking and nonchalant. “It’s not like I have a _choice_. I remember it, so I have to…”

”Still. It’s a whole week.”

The thought hit him. Disbelieving, then disappointed, finally accepting; all in a second.

”Y’know,” he said, ”I’m not so sure _I_ would’ve given myself a day.”

Four’s smile might have wavered; his curious eyes might have widened.

”…Doctor. Man.”

Suddenly, there’s a little white bag under the younger’s nose, wafting of sugar.

”Have a jelly baby.”

He had a green one. Felt it sweet and gooey in his mouth while the other already chewed on a red one.

”Thank you.”

”Just doing what I had to. It was fun. You looked a total goof.”

Both chuckled.

The TARDIS doors slammed shut.

”Don’t like goodbyes, do I?” the Doctor murmured to the beautiful blue box.

He backed away, until he was leaning on Bessie again.

_Vworp, vworp!_

The ship begun phasing, blinking transparent. No wind blowing, this time.

_Vworp, vworp_.

The sun rays leaked through the blue walls, hitting the Doctor’s face with some final, faint warmth.

_Vworp, vworp_ …

It’s gone.

She’s gone. _He’s_ gone.

The Doctor doesn’t need to be called Three; the First Law of Time shall apply to him.

Still chewing on the sugary candy, he ducked his head down, wanting to imagine it was still there. But the rays of light were too bright, the shade from his future ship was no more. At least not currently.

He dragged fingers through his greyed locks, straightened his black lapels and ruffled collar. The wand was placed deep inside his jacket’s inner pocket, over his left heart. In one smooth motion, he hopped into Bessie’s driver’s seat and turned on the engine.

All the way to UNIT, he can feel the pads of his fingers throbbing, his nerves overly sensitive while his brain is hot and exhausted from the quick and messy traveling. When he comes into the lab and opens the doors of his stranded ship, he almost expects the unevenly tanned, tall Doctor with the big voice, big teeth, big hair full of spoilers to stand there. When he does his experiments and inspections from Wednesday to Tuesday, he does it with a delicate vigor, a tightly contained energy only let out in small doses.

The next Tuesday evening, at sunset, Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart is just about to let the night personnel take over and lock the building.

He knocks on the lab door. He’s tired, grouchy from the late hour, but at least he hasn’t been as on edge as his scientific advisor has throughout the day. Come to think of it, maybe he should check on him, see if he’s still jittery.

The Doctor left the door unlocked. He jumps at the Brigadier entering, and he tries to dry his face but the damage is already done. Oh for stars’ sake, now the human has seen him crying, too.

The Doctor wishes he could remember why.

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=55012>


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